At the Foot of Your Love
by the.eye.does.not.SEE
Summary: Morning at the cabin. Jane/Kurt.


**Title** : _At the Foot of Your Love_ (1/1)  
 **Rating** : PG-13/NC-17ish  
 **Pairing** : Jane Doe/Kurt Weller  
 **Summary** : Morning at the cabin.

 **A/N** : Someone be proud of me. There's no angst in this one _at all_. (And trust me, that took some _doing._ ) Please enjoy! :)

* * *

He finds her sitting out on the porch steps the morning after they arrive, with that ratty old plaid blanket from the couch wrapped around her shoulders. He pauses in the doorway before he opens the screen door, just watching her for a moment. The jet-black color of her hair is a stark contrast to the spring morning waking up all around them, and he finds himself delighting in, and doing his best to memorize, the sight of her before him, here.

Just three years ago, such a sight wouldn't have even crossed his mind, let alone been real. But now...

She doesn't turn when he opens the screen door and it creaks on its hinges, nor when it lets it go and it slams shut behind him with a low smack of wood on wood. She doesn't shift as he takes a seat behind her, spreading his legs to place them on side of her body. It isn't until he wraps his arms around her middle, and hugs her back against him, that she finally turns her head. She's smiling when she looks over her shoulder at him.

"Good morning," she whispers, touching his lips softly with hers.

"Mm," he murmurs, cupping the side of her face with hand to lengthen the kiss as he opens her mouth to his. "Morning," he returns finally, letting her mouth go. Her lips are redder now, her eyes more alight, and he smiles at the sight. "Missed you in bed this morning," he murmurs, his tone half full of longing, half full of a reprimand.

"I wanted to see the sun rise," she excuses, turning forward again to face the eastern treeline. He rests his chin on her shoulder, following her gaze. It's just a quarter before six; the sun should be up soon. The sky is already lightening around the tops of the trees, and with it come the growing noises of the day: little animals scurrying around for their breakfast, the swaying of the trees in the light wind, the call of the birds overhead as they swoop in and out of sight. For a few minutes, they watch it all in silence, allowing themselves to be nothing more than observers of the natural world around them.

"I love it here," she whispers after a while, and he closes his eyes, too grateful for words. He hugs her tight instead, and presses a firm kiss to her neck.

"I love _you_ ," he says finally, just for something to say, not loosening his grip around her slim body.

He receives a warm squeeze of her hand on his knee in acknowledgement and thanks, just before she tilts her head back against to his chest to rest and watch. The sun is just starting to crest the top of the treeline, and he leans his head back as well, watching as the sky changes from gray to yellow to pink to blue...

"It's beautiful, hm?" he murmurs, stroking her sides gently as he hugs her, his arms crossed over her middle.

"Mm." She nods in agreement, turning her head into his chest as the sun finally crests up high enough in the sky that it blinds them.

He, too, closes his eyes against the rays and nestles down into her. "Come back to bed now?" he murmurs in her ear, taking the lobe gently between his lips. He can feel her shiver beneath his touch, and he smiles.

"Only if you carry me."

He laughs at the request, and she snuggles into him, relishing the warmth of his breath. "Maybe," he allows.

But he doesn't get up yet. He holds her instead, and opens his eyes once the light behind his eyelids becomes less vibrant. The clearing spread out before his family's small cabin is lit up now: the grass greener, the wildflowers brighter, the tree trunks browner, for exposure to the sun. He smiles absentmindedly as a rabbit goes hopping by in search of sustenance. He loves it here, too, he really does.

Not for the first time, he imagines what it would be like, to live here year-round together. It wouldn't be easy, not with the lack of heat and the sometimes-troublesome plumbing, and the fact that they're thirty minutes from even the barest bit of civilization, but he thinks if they tried, they could do it. They could make it work. He remembers once telling her, ages ago now, that they could make their own little world out here. Well, they could.

And, in a way, they already have—if his math and their joint recollections are correct.

Unconsciously, he feels his hands shift down from her sides to cup the little rise that has replaced her usually flat stomach. One of her hands moves to cover his, to interlace their fingers, and he closes his eyes at the feel. It's been three months now, since they spent spring vacation here at the cabin, spent their days hiking and fishing, spent their evenings warming around a fire, spent their early mornings and late nights tangled up in bed. Three months since they were maybe a little lax about using protection, not exactly for the first time, but certainly for the first time that mattered. Three months since they unknowingly started creating a family together.

He can still remember her rushing up to him one morning, about two weeks after they'd gotten back from break. She'd come to him with tears in her eyes—God, he doesn't think he'll ever really be able to get that image out of his mind—but instead of the heartbreak he'd always assumed came hand-in-hand with her tears, there was joy. There was fear, too, of course— _How are we supposed to do this?_ and _Are we sure we want this?_ and _Can we really make it work?—_ but the prevailing happiness that shone through had overruled each fear, one after the other, until it was the only thing left. It burst from her and him, and after all the tears had been wiped away and the logistics had been thought through, it was the only thing still there that mattered.

And even after those three months, he stil sometimes finds himself smiling like an idiot when he thinks about it all. Thinks about her and him and it, whatever _it_ is, that tiny explosion of life inside her that will one day, God willing, turn into a real, human life. He is still dumbfounded when he thinks about it. He knows how pregnancy works; he knows what happens at conception and birth and he understands the growth in between. But still, the idea that in six months' time they will actually have a _child—_ a tiny little thing that's made up of nothing except him and her alone—astonishes him. It takes his breath away sometimes, and more often than not consumes his entire mind.

"What's this now?" Jane murmurs, feeling his lips at her neck, his hands slipping out from hers and down under her tank top.

"Just saying good morning," he replies, slowly lifting the garment until her stomach is bare, and then slipping his hands beneath the remaining bit of fabric to cup her breasts.

She lets go of a small moan, leaning back into him, as her nipples harden at his touch and her cheeks heat from his kisses.

"I thought you said... something about... _bed_ ," she manages to get out eventually, after one hand has left her chest to sneak past down the waistband of her shorts.

"Bed's overrated," he murmurs, switching his mouth from one side of her neck to the other. She shivers at the warmth of his breath as he chuckles against her skin. "And here's as good as anywhere, isn't it? Look at that view. Lovely."

"Hard to focus on any view when your hands are all over me." She tries to say it with annoyance, but it just comes out yearning. She can feel him grin against her neck.

"Get up for a second," he whispers, withdrawing his hands so quickly she lets out an audible groan at the loss of contact. "Just a second," he promises, and when she sits up, he pulls the blanket out from under her and then spreads it on the porch, pushing some of the chairs out of the way.

She glances over at the noise and sighs. "Kurt..." Her voice is pleading—asking for a number of different things, he knows—and he chooses to focus on the only thing that really matters right now.

"We're on private property," he reminds her, teasing and serious at the same as he helps her to her feet and leads her to the makeshift bed, laying her down gently before crawling above her. "And we're miles away from our nearest neighbors. So don't you worry about anybody seeing anything." He reaches up as soon as they're settled and yanks his shirt off, before bending down and doing the same to her tank top. He tosses them both to the other side of the porch without a glance before lowering himself down to her level.

"Neighbors or no, we should still go inside," she murmurs, but the protest is half-hearted, because he has his mouth on her breasts now, and she's never been much good at focusing on anything but him when he does that. "Kurt," she whispers, dragging out his name with a blissful sigh, as he sucks her nipples to attention and scrapes his beard against the soft skin of her breasts. "Don't stop," she mumbles, eyes closed already, as he moves his mouth from one to the other. He smiles at the feel of her hand tangling in his hair, and obliges her.

When he deems that she's had enough, he lets up, and kisses a path down her chest, over her stomach. He lingers there for a time, pressing kisses all along the barely-there swell of her stomach, and she smiles, tilting her head to the side to watch him. He's so gentle—with his lips, his hands, even his breath—and Jane sighs, delighting in his soft treatment of her, and of their child-to-be.

Eventually, she reaches a hand down, running it through his hair to cup the back of his neck, and he glances up. He holds her gaze for a second, and then gives her a quick nod. Leaning back on bent knees, he spreads her legs to either side of his, and then leans forward, moving above her, to guide himself slowly, carefully, into her.

Jane has to bit her tongue so she won't have to tell him to speed up. She knows these moments, right at the start of their lovemaking, are more sacred to him than ever since they found out she was pregnant. Looking back, she thinks he's taking more care now than he did the first time they went to bed together. The thought makes her smile, and she reaches up a hand to pull his lips to hers, wanting him to be close to her on every level possible while they do this.

"Love you," she whispers into his mouth when they break for air, each a little breathless.

He grins, and bends his forehead down to press against hers. "Love you too."

And then he's kissing her again, and his arms are wrapping themselves around her, and she doesn't mind his leisurely and cautious pace. It lets them draw out these moments, draw out this time together until it seems almost endless, and she will do anything to keep this feeling he gets her for as long as possible. She will do anything for him.

"Kurt..." Her voice grows strained, desperate, as she starts to reach the end, but he's right there with her, holding on.

"Wait," he gasps out. "Please, Jane—"

She digs her hands into his back, knowing what he's begging for. But she doesn't think she can wait that long. "Kurt, please," she whispers, squeezing her eyes shut as her body starts rising to his involuntarily, seeking that final moment of pleasure—

And then she's crying out, and he is too, and she's gasping at the force of him coming inside her, coming with her, and when he collapses between her legs, holding himself off of her with just his forearms, she feels herself grinning, laughing almost deliriously. She can hear him against her, sucking in air as he shakes with silent laughter, and she runs her hands through his hair and behind his neck, pulling his head to her chest. He's careful, as he always is these days, when he finally lets his weight sink down onto her, and she sighs in contentment at the feel. She loves feeling him like this, afterwards: still inside her, and on top of her, and all around her. If they could spend the rest of their lives like this...

"Love you, love you, love you," he mumbles, pressing a trail of weak kisses across her collarbones, from one shoulder to the next.

She hugs him tight, realizing as she always does in these soft moments that she has everything she wants, everything she could ever need, right here in her arms. "Love you too," she whispers, cradling his body to hers.

They cool off in silence for a while after that, letting their heart rates and their breathing return to normal, and allowing their muscles and bones to come back to regular function and weight. At some point, Kurt rolls off her, and she curls her body instinctively towards his once he's gone, turning on her side to face him. He smiles, accustomed to this, and takes her hand. He brings it to his lips and presses a kiss each against her engagement ring and wedding band. Jane smiles at the gesture, but as soon as he lets go, she finds herself frowning mournfully, staring at the rings.

"They're getting tighter," she confesses unhappily. "But I don't want to take them off."

"Well, I don't want them cutting off your circulation," he replies. He studies the rings for a moment, thinking. "You could wear them on a necklace," he proposes. "We could get you a nice chain to match."

"Not the same," she says, shaking her head.

He frowns in agreement—he wouldn't want to wear his wedding ring on a necklace either—but not able to think of another alternative, he falls silent. When she turns in his arms, putting her back to him, he lets her go, and then wraps a tight arm around her middle. He knows how she likes the feel of him strong and solid behind her as they rest, even sometimes as they make love, and so he hugs her tight, burying his face in her hair.

He closes his eyes, willing himself for a bit more strength, so they can go again. Ever since they discovered she was pregnant, he's been like a sixteen-year-old, wanting sex at every turn. He can't quite remember the blur that was their honeymoon three years ago, but he thinks he wants her more now than he ever did then. He wants her every minute of every day.

As if sensing the uncontrollable turn of her thoughts, Jane reaches behind her for his hand, and draws it to her growing stomach. Kurt feels his own stomach tense for a moment, waiting—but of course there's no movement. She's hardly three months; likely there won't be anything until the second trimester. But still, he can't stop himself from hoping...

"We gotta start telling people soon," he reminds her, caressing her stomach lightly. "We should've already started."

Jane makes a low noise of disapproval in the back of her throat, and shakes her head against him. "No. No, let's keep it between us a little longer."

"Jane..." He sighs, pressing his forehead to the back of her head. "Come on. We can't keep this hidden forever. It's a baby. It's going to show."

"I didn't say forever, I said _a little longer_ ," she replies calmly. She turns her head towards him, and then rolls back over onto her side so they're face to face again, their noses almost touching. "I like our little secret, Kurt," she whispers, brushing her fingertips against the scruff on his cheeks.

He smiles reflexively at the moniker; it's what they've been calling the baby ever since they found out she was pregnant two-and-a-half months ago. "I like our little secret too," he allows, an uncharacteristic fondness softening his voice. "But we have to be realistic here."

"Why?" She sighs, closing her eyes. "None of this feels very realistic to me. More like a fairytale or something silly like that."

He rubs her side, and presses a quick kiss to her forehead. "For me, too. But it's gonna be real soon enough, and we gotta get started on adjusting."

Jane makes a noncommittal murmur, and scoots closer to him. He leans back against the blanket, drawing her head against his chest. For a moment, it's quiet between them, as the sounds of the woods around them fill their ears.

Finally, she capitulates. "Fine. Who do you want to tell first, then?"

Kurt rolls his eyes, shaking his head at the obvious question. "You know who we _have_ to tell first," he mutters. "Even if she hugs you to death afterwards, she has to be told first."

Jane smiles, unfazed. "Hey, that's what sister-in-laws are for, right?"

Kurt grunts, shaking his head. "You do remember what she did when she found out we were engaged? I thought she was going to break you in two. I thought I was going to go deaf from the screaming."

Jane waves a hand, as if these are hardly concerns. "All right, Sarah first."

"Unfortunately," Kurt agrees. "Then who's next?" He waits, expecting to hear the usual names: Tasha, Patterson, Ed.

"I want to tell Mayfair."

He blinks, surprised, and then turns to her. "You do?" And then: "Why? You won't have to take off time for months, Jane. We won't need to start adjusting schedules until—"

"It's not about work," Jane interrupts quietly. "I just want to tell her. I want her to know as soon as Sarah does." She glances down. "She's... Oh, this'll sound stupid," she mutters, turning her head away.

"No, it won't," Kurt murmurs, his voice lowering as well. He touches a finger beneath her chin, lifting her face so their eyes can meet. "Tell me," he implores quietly.

Jane nods a moment, gathering herself. "It's just that... Mayfair's the closest thing I have to a mother, okay? I—I know she's really just our boss, but she was there at the wedding, okay, and walked me down to you, and—and if there was anyone I wish I had, leftover from my past, it's a mother. Someone to show me how to do this: how to raise a child and be a wife and have a family—" She breaks off suddenly, not able to continue.

"Jane... Hey..." Kurt's voice tightens when he sees the tears start to fill her lower lids.

Aware of this too, she blinks them back quickly, staring up at the roof above them until all the evidence has disappeared. Her rims are only a little red when she looks back at him and takes his hand. "I want to tell Mayfair, okay? Before anyone outside the family knows, I want her to know. She's done so much for me, she's helped us so much, and I want her to see that—that something really good has come of the chance she took, letting me stick around. I want her to see the good life she's helped me to have."

Kurt nods, understanding this. "Okay," he agrees quietly. "Mayfair it is." He pauses a moment, letting them both return to their usual selves. Then he wonders, a smile creeping across his face, "What do we do with the three stooges?"

Jane grins, laughing at the idea. "God, I don't know. We'll have to come up with something good. We'll have to swear Sarah and Mayfair to secrecy until then."

"If that's even possible," Kurt mutters darkly. "You know how Sarah gets with good news—"

"I'll tell her that if she keeps quiet, she'll be able to help with names." Jane catches Kurt's eye with a smile. "Sound good?"

He grins back, choosing instead to answer her with a kiss instead of words.

* * *

 **A/N** : Thanks for reading, guys! Leave me some thoughts. :)


End file.
